


The Stuff of Nightmares

by summerofspock



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:05:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has secrets. Sometimes that's for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stuff of Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> i do not own anything nor do i profit from this work
> 
> amp'het'hum is pronounced ahm pay toomb (just btw) ( äm/pāt/üm)

“We wish to see your _am’pet’hum_ ,” the alien closest to him intones as xe presses a long, spongy finger against Jim’s temple and Jim is oddly reminded of that time Sam chased him around with a corndog, eventually tackling him and rubbing the thing up and down his face. Perhaps this situation is slightly more grave. Jim looks over at Spock who is surrounded by his own contingency of Jaice, hoping he can help with the word causing the UT so much difficulty. The dimness of the antechamber casts his First’s face into shadow, but Jim can still see the stony curve of his mouth and the liquid amber of his eyes flashing in the candlelight. The ambient temperature of the room is low enough that goosebumps rise on the nape of Jim’s neck and Spock’s lips purse nearly imperceptibly as he shakes his head. Jim looks away with a frown.  This offer feels more like a threat, but Jim looks at the Jaice, whose upside-down eggplant shaped head still makes him feel weird, grins and says, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

His wit seems to fall on deaf ears and the eight Jaice in the room cluster more tightly around Jim and Spock. Immediately it feels as if the digit on his face sinks into his brain like a hot knife through butter and Jim bites his tongue as the heat spreads, slithering between his skin and his insides. He’s not sure if he gasps as the edges of his vision fuzz into blackness. Just as he begins to pass out he hears Spock’s sharp, “Jim!” and the sudden rustling of abrupt movement as he falls against the mats.

 

His body doesn’t hurt when he wakes up prone on his own bunk and he is surprised that he hasn’t been kept in sick bay. He wonders if Spock carried him to his quarters, equal parts embarrassed and thrilled at the idea. Rolling his shoulders in an effort to loose the tension coiled at the base of his skull, Jim levers himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He quickly inventories his body for new injuries, but the only difference exists in the nearly solid weight pressing into the top of his spine. Jim rubs a hand over the offending area, but it does nothing to soothe the pressure there. He sighs, hoping that it isn’t the beginning of some psychic aftermath induced migraine.

As he stands Jim realizes something is wrong. He’s in the captain’s quarters, but none of his things are there. In fact, now that he’s paying attention, he notices that his room is warmer and smells like…incense and cinnamon. Jim knows that smell. That’s Spock’s smell.

The bulkhead slides open and Jim’s attention is drawn to his First Officer as he strides in wearing his usual workout clothes: black shirt and pants that fit in a way that makes Jim feel sort of hot and bothered. Okay. Definitely bothered.

Spock doesn’t even glance at him before pulling the shirt over his head and if Jim had been bothered before well then…

He doesn’t give himself a chance to linger on the lines of Spock’s body, instead he laughs loudly and crosses to the door. “Not that I object to the show, Spock, but why are you stripping in _my_ room?”

Two things happen at once, both equally disconcerting. First, Spock does not reply. He doesn’t even acknowledge Jim’s now loud and obvious presence. Second, in an attempt to ask Spock to leave, Jim presses the button to open the door except nothing happens. In fact, more than nothing happens. Jim can’t even touch the button. His hand meets resistance, but as he peers at the wall curiously, he notices a hair’s breadth between his finger and the button he has pressed a thousand times going to and from his quarters. He feels a surge of panic and turns back to Spock. He strides to his First with determination and attempts to grab his shoulder. He hesitates a moment at the expanse of bare skin before him, but steels himself for the contact. Again, his hand meets resistance, but it is clearly not skin and just as with the door, there is a millimeter of space between his hand and Spock’s shoulder. The nerves swell up in his stomach and he asks, “Spock?”

Again: “Spock? What the hell is going on?”

The nerves swing quickly from fear to anger and Jim launches himself at Spock who continues to change his clothes despite Jim’s impotent assault.

Then something happens that turns Jim’s stomach into a cold knot of dread. Spock reaches into his dresser and pulls out his tunic. Which is gold. And as he pulls it over his head, Jim sees the glint of the command emblem on his chest.

The pressure at the base of his neck increases.

“Oh my god,” Jim breathes as Spock crosses to the intercom. “You can’t hear me at all.”

Spock begins to place a call to the admiralty, so routine and easy in his position and Jim wonders how long he’s been captain.

As Spock talks with Admiral Barnett, Jim returns to the door, fruitlessly slamming his hand against what appears to be a forcefield. The pressure in his skull has turned into a dull ache.

“You’ve done an admirable job taking over for Captain Kirk,” Barnett says to Spock and Jim pauses in his attempts to open the door. He watches Spock’s expression grow tight as he nods.

“There have been unexpected challenges, but nothing I cannot handle, Admiral.”

“I wasn’t sure how things would hold up after the incident with Khan, but you’ve really helped hold the ‘Fleet together.”

 _The incident with Khan_.  The phrase makes Jim’s blood run cold as memories of violence and death rise to the surface of his mind and he realizes he doesn’t exist in this reality anymore.

“I have only done what any officer would have done.”

Barnett smiles and pauses, clearly ready to change the topic. “Congratulations on your bonding, by the way. The admiralty sends their regards.”

Spock inclines his head in thanks. “I will convey them to Nyota.”

Suddenly, the door slides open and Uhura enters the room. Jim tries to dodge her and exit the room, but he only meets more resistance.

Uhura crosses to the bed, unzipping her dress as she walks. She sits gracefully on the edge of the bed and pulls off her boots with a sigh. Jim watches and Spock’s eyes are drawn to her. His eyes darken and he quickly concludes his conversation with Barnett. He leans back in his chair, relaxing in a way that Jim has never seen. Jim hates how he knows that he’ll never see it when he gets back to his own reality. If he ever gets back to his own reality.

“Interrupting the captain during a conference?” Spock asks, his eyebrow ticking to his hairline just the way that Jim secretly loves, but outwardly mocks. His stomach twists at the flirtatious undercurrents in Spock’s tone. Uhura laughs and finishes removing her boots.

“They’re my quarters too,” she admonishes, smiling. Spock stands and crosses to Uhura grasping her hands and drawing her into the circle of his arms. “Indeed,” he replies, his fingers expertly slipping her uniform dress from her shoulders.

Uhura smiles up at him and he kisses the line of her mouth. Her eyes flutter shut as Spock rests a hand on the small of her back, pulling her flush against his body. Jim feels sick with the envy that washes his spine cold. He wants to be anywhere but in this room and in his desperation he tries the bathroom door and meets the same forcefield chasing him through the room.

His eyes are drawn back to the bed like it’s a train wreck and he’s a helpless rubbernecker. Something like grief makes his throat close as he watches Spock trail kisses along Uhura’s collarbone, bending her back for better access to the luscious, dark expanse of her skin.

It’s Spock _making love_ to his girlfriend—not Jim—so he curls up on the ground, wrapping his arms around his knees and tries to remember to breathe. Jim is dead and Spock is married and nothing is okay here. Jim hates it.

He hears the rustle of clothing and looks up again, his gaze helplessly fixed on the unwitting object of his affections as Uhura dips her slim hands into the back of his trousers and slips them down around his hips. The urge to vomit mingles with a strong desire to cry, but Jim pushes through it. He presses his head back into his knees, hoping that it will end. Praying that something will make it end.

He feels dirty, and guilty, and jealous, and he hates himself. The weight at the back of his head tugs sharply at his scalp and Jim gasps at the horrifying sensation. His skin crawls with it.

Suddenly, all the sounds around him are amplified and he grits his teeth at the realization that something outside of him is controlling this situation, forcing him to see this. He squeezes his eyes shut tight against the fabric of his Starfleet issued trousers as his ears are assaulted with the sounds of Spock and Uhura’s coupling. It’s like the best porn he’s ever heard and the knowledge that some of those gasps are Spock’s is starting to get to Jim. He begins to harden in his pants and the immediate rush of shame does nothing to stop the proceedings.

He looks up again, hoping the sight of them will quell the sudden lust coiling in his groin. The amplified sound quiets and Jim thinks, _so they want me to watch._ His brain registers that Spock is on top of Uhura, rhythmically thrusting into her, all white-green skin against deep brown and aesthetically its beautiful, but Jim can’t see enough of Uhura to bring back the sickness. All he sees is Spock, naked and gorgeous, doing to a faceless person what Jim had fantasized about so many times.  

Then Jim does something he hasn’t done since Khan—he cries. It begins slow with just the reminiscent prickling at the back of his eyes and he shuts them against the irritation, but it doesn’t stop. His hearing immediately improves and he hears Uhura orgasm and Spock quickly follow. The pain in his head increases as Spock collapses next to his lover. Jim watches as she laces her fingers with his and kisses his knuckles. The two lay in silence for a moment before Uhura whispers, “I love you.”

Spock responds, “And I you.”

The pressure in his skull explodes out and colors flash behind his eyes. As everything settles, Jim feels wetness on his face and the Jaician antechamber reforms around him. An alien finger slides down his cheek, through his tears and Jim jerks away. “What the fuck was that?” he demands.

The nearest Jaice, the one who had touched his face, says, “Your _amp’het’hum_.”

Spock appears from the shadows. “Our translator is having difficulty with that word. It would be helpful if you could explicate it further using other, more basic terms.”

“Certainly,” xe says, xir eggplant face purpling in confusion. Another Jaice takes a step forward and begins slowly, “The _amp’het’hum_ is something like a nightmare.”

Jim inhales sharply, but Spock silences him with a look. The Jaice continues, “Shame. Fear. Guilt. Secrets. The _amp’het’hum_ contains all of these at their most intense. It is the darkest part of the spirit. Our people cherish the _amp’het’hum_ for its pure darkness. So we share them. As we saw in Captain Kirk’s _amp’het’hum—_ “

“Wait,” Jim interrupts. “You all saw it?” he asks the collective Jaice, his voice steely, belying none of the desperation he feels at the thought of all of these beings seeing what he just experienced.

Spock reaches for his elbow and then retracts his hand before ever making contact. Jim doesn’t think he’s ever seen Spock abort a gesture and his heart sinks when he finally meets Spock’s eyes. “You saw it too, didn’t you?”

Spock nods slowly. “The Jaice projected the _amp’het’hum_ into the minds of all the beings present. I was not excluded.”

Jim really wants to punch something. He flexes his fingers instead.

The first Jaice begins to speak again, looking excited. “Your _amp’het’hum_ was one of the most distressing we’ve seen in many suns. Not only do you fear replacement and hold on to the remnants of anxiety regarding a resolved situation, but your unrequited feelings for the most likely replacement created a beautifully dark and circular shame. Thank you, Captain. For sharing with us.”

Jim wants to beat the Jaice into a bloody pulp and then some, but he smiles and bows. “If you would not mind, I would like to return to my ship.”

The Jaice nods, xir stringy hair moving about xir head. “Of course. We are thankful for this opportunity to interact with the Federation and will welcome any of your people should the need arise.”

Jim’s smile is brittle as he calls for beam up. He stands next to Spock in silence as the transporter takes him.

 

If Jim’s first recourse is to get amazingly drunk alone in his quarters then nobody can blame him. He’s on his second glass of Scotty’s whiskey when his door beeps. “Come,” he half shouts, half grumbles.

The door slides open to reveal Spock, standing at parade rest outside the door. Jim rolls his eyes and says with no small amount of irritation, “What?”

“I deduced that your emotional state would be less than ideal after our interactions with the Jaice. I have come to offer my support, but if it is not welcome then…” Spock doesn’t finish his sentence because Jim stands on unsteady legs and drags him into his quarters, shutting the door and demanding, his words at odds with his actions: “Why the fuck would you think that I’d want to talk to you?”

“I have been laboring under the impression that we are friends, Captain,” Spock says simply.

Jim laughs bitterly and takes a large gulp of his whiskey. “You saw what’s in my head. “

Spock stares at him like he’s lunatic spouting about the end of the world.

Jim wants to scream. Instead, he sets down his cup and says, “I’m in love you.”

Spock ignores him and launches into what sounds like a rehearsed speech, but with Spock, everything sounds rehearsed. “It is illogical to retain fear regarding an event that has concluded with no real harm to your self. You are not dead and I am not in command of the Enterprise. I do not foresee myself taking command in the near future. You are the captain and you shall remain so.”

Jim fists his hands in his hair and replies, “I know that. The thing about fear is that it’s irrational. You know, illogical. I can’t help that I’m afraid.”

Spock’s eyebrow lifts and the surge of affection Jim feels makes him blush. “I like that look on you,” he says simply, simultaneously relieved and mortified to finally be honest with Spock. He thinks back to that time outside the warp core, that time he died. Jim thinks about the words he had wanted to say then.

Spock fidgets. He actually fidgets and Jim would tease him if the general feeling in the room hadn’t taken such a serious turn. “Captain,” Spock begins before amending, “Jim—I am not…I cannot…Vulcans do not—“

Jim feels sorry for him and waves away his attempted explanation. “It’s okay. You and Uhura are great together. I promise I won’t take it personally,” he says, trying to smile but feeling certain he just looks pathetic.

Spock shakes his head and his eyebrows draw together in frustration. “I am not expressing myself well.”

“It’s fine, Spock. Don’t worry about it,” Jim says, dropping back down into his seat and picking up his glass once more.

“I cannot help but ‘worry’ about it. You are incorrect in your assumptions about my personal relationships. Nyota and I are no longer romantically involved.”

Hope drapes itself brightly around the edges of Jim's mind and he ignores it, opting for shocked instead. “Since when?”

Spock looks even more uncomfortable. “Since the day before we left Earth for this mission.”

Jim gapes at him. “That was over seven months ago! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I found it irrelevant,” Spock replies and Jim can tell he’s hiding something.

“Look, I don’t expect anything more than friendship from you, okay? But if we’re gonna be friends then you’re gonna have to tell me stuff like that,” Jim says, feeling tired. The weight of whiskey pulls at his eyelids.

“Jim. I do not know how to be in a relationship. My year with Nyota taught me that. But if I were to learn from anyone, I would hope that it would be from you.”

Jim blinks once. Then twice. Then raises his eyes to meet Spock’s. “Excuse me?”

“Nyota terminated our relationship based on the belief that I harbored…feelings for you that I did not have for her.  I had no cogent argument against this belief.”

Jim stands again, numb with disbelief and alcohol.  He takes two steps closer to Spock, who does not move as their eyes lock.

“You are in love with me,” Spock states.

“I think we covered that,” Jim says, his heart racing. “The question is: do you feel the same way?”

Spock pauses and, to Jim, it feels like an eternity.

“Yes,” Spock answers.

So Jim kisses him. And it’s great, better than he imagined, better than anything really and Spock makes a disapproving noise when Jim pulls away.

“I’ve had a hard day,” Jim begins to explain, “an emotional roller coaster, one might say.”

Spock nods and tangles their fingers together as he waits for Jim to continue. “And on days like this, we humans usually like a solid cuddlefest.”

“Cuddlefest,” Spock repeats dubiously.

Instead of explaining,  Jim pulls Spock over to his bed and arranges the two of them in a comfortable position. “Cuddlefest,” Jim confirms as he pulls Spock against his back.

After a few minutes, Spock asks, “Do we sleep like this?”

Not for the first time, Jim wonders what sort of relationship Spock and Uhura shared if they had never done something as simple as cuddle. Then again, Uhura had never struck Jim as the cuddling type. That’s why her and Spock had always been so good together since Spock was the least cuddly person Jim could think of.  Besides Bones. Jim closes his eyes against thoughts of Spock's past relationship and tries his best to be thankful that he's here now. He doesn't have to try very hard.

“We can. It’s mostly the body contact that’s soothing.”

Another pause. “If we are going to sleep like this then I request that we change into more comfortable sleepwear.”

Jim laughs and says, “Sure. That’s probably a good idea.”

Five minutes later they reconvene in Jim’s bed and Spock wraps his arms around Jim once more. Just as Jim is drifting to sleep, Spock murmurs against his neck, “This is pleasant.”

Jim grins into his pillow and has better dreams than he’s had in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> this ended happier than i anticipated. thanks for reading!


End file.
